


Pretend (that you love me)

by MeChewChew



Series: Cruel Love [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeChewChew/pseuds/MeChewChew
Summary: Just for tonight, Rufus wants to forget the ache in his chest, ever present since Tseng left him.Reeve can't say no to the small voice asking him to stay.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Reeve Tuesti, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: Cruel Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913590
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Pretend (that you love me)

He hears the door open rather than sees it, room shrouded in the dark of the night. The light of the moon peaks through the blinds and illuminates just enough that Rufus can make out his visitor. He doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the bed, tired eyes taking in the shadowy form of his former subordinate, Reeve Tuesti.

Ever slowly, Rufus watches him walk over. He doesn’t know why he’s here and he really doesn’t care enough to ask. It’s very much past dinner time and Rufus should be asleep, but the ache in his chest keeps him up more often than not. Most nights it’s dull, but tonight it seems to be sharper than ever.

Perhaps it’s because someone was absent during dinner. Perhaps it’s because Rude, Reno, and Elena wouldn’t tell him where that person went after he asked. Or, perhaps it’s because he had left the dinner table after that, only haven taken two bites of his food.

Reeve is barely a step away from the bed and it’s then that Rufus sees the tray in his hands, watching him set it onto the night stand in favor of dragging a chair over to sit beside him. It’s quiet for a moment, until he finally needs to ask.

“Why are you here?” Rufus’ voice is raspier than he expects, dry from a moment of weakness.

Reeve doesn’t mention it if he notices, instead taking a bow of soup from the tray bringing it up in hopes that Rufus will take it, but he turns away.

“I don’t need to be coddled.”

“Sir, please.” Reeve places the bowl back onto the tray, just in case Rufus lashes out. “They’re worried about you.”

“And they send you of all people to baby me?” Rufus turns to him pointedly, eyes sharp in the darkness.

“Sir…”

Rufus looks back down, hands bunching in the blanket draped across his lap. _There’s no one left who cares about him._ He knows this. He’s known this since Ts- since that day at the temple. Since he heard a garbled voice over the intercom saying that Shinra was wrong.

_That he was wrong._

Rufus lets out a single laugh at the memory. He had stored the words in the back of his mind, placing a lock on it so it wouldn’t resurface as he stayed by Tseng’s bedside between meetings and paperwork, waiting for him to wake up. And when he finally did, he didn’t look at him, didn’t speak, didn’t react when Rufus held him tightly and cried in relief that he was awake.

That was the first hint, he realized in hindsight, but he was too blind to see it. Tseng was probably still dazed out from his coma, Rufus had told himself those few months ago when Tseng had pretended that they were just back to employer and employee.

The second hint was when Tseng had refused all of his advances. Every sweet gesture or invitation to bed were ignored, but Rufus assumed that Tseng just needed time to himself and to heal his wounds alone. Right?

The last hint wasn’t a hint at all. In fact, Rufus would say it felt like Tseng had just shot him in the chest, point blank. He can still feel it now. It was late, just like tonight, and Rufus had told Tseng he loved him and that he wanted Tseng to talk to him. To see if he was okay.

Tseng hadn’t responded.

He remembers repeating Tseng’s name again, in case he didn’t hear him. But how could he not? It was nearly silent.

Everything’s a little blurry after that. No. He chooses to pretend that he doesn’t remember what had happened that night. But he remembers it perfectly too well. The way that Tseng had finally looked at him in the eye with such a guilt that Rufus felt like he had done something wrong. The way that Tseng had said that they should stop seeing each other like this. The way Tseng had apologized and said that he would still serve him until the end, but only as his subordinate.

He remembers yelling at him- No. He hadn’t yelled as so much screeched, begging for Tseng to explain himself. Asking what he could do to fix them.

To fix _himself_.

Tseng had simply said that their relationship wasn’t in the best interest of the company. That Tseng had known Rufus for a decade and that he wouldn’t change. Rufus remembers throwing his empty glass of bourbon at the wall behind them, furious that Tseng wouldn’t give him the chance.

And that was the last of it.

Tseng had gotten up, not even sparing him a glance, as he quietly opened the door and left. The one thing Rufus is sure that he _doesn’t_ remember from that night is how long he sat there in bed crying, sobbing and thinking to himself that he ruined everything he touched.

No one had come to check up on him the next day; no call from his secretary, no concerned knock from his maid, no door being broken down by his Turks. Tseng must have called him out of work knowing the state he’d be in.

How kind.

_How cruel._

The next few weeks are a blur of chases, meetings, and enemies. The one constant was that every time he looked over his shoulder, Tseng was always a step too far away. Out of reach for a hidden touch that they used to share so often. Rufus hadn’t remembered feeling so alone since his mother died. It ate at him constantly, leaving an excruciating heat in his chest each time he remembered that Tseng wouldn’t be there for him like he used to before.

And then the Diamond Weapon turned towards him and charged up. Rufus remembers the bitter smile that creeped up on his face, thoughts turned to one man that he knew was helping the citizens below, and the one, cruel line that had haunted him since that day so long ago as the blast came towards him.

_‘I was wrong.’_

He hadn’t expected to wake up after that, not in a sterile white room with bandages wrapped all around him, legs numb, and each breath feeling like sandpaper. And yet, the first thing he whispered out was Tseng’s name.

There was no one in the room.

A childish, wishful part of him had hoped that he could have opened his eyes in the same way that Tseng had opened his to see his lover sitting there in awed relief. If anything, he had felt like he was being crushed once more.

“Sir?”

Rufus breaks out of his memories at the voice, a hand on his shoulder gently shaking him. He swats Reeve’s hand away and brings his own fingers up to wipe at the wet streaks on his face that had unknowingly slipped down.

“Are you alright, Sir?” Reeve asks softly, tone so kind in a way that Rufus hasn’t heard since he was younger.

He hates it.

“I don’t need your pity.” He hisses, curling in on himself.

“I’m only asking if you’re alright, Sir.” Reeve says. There’s no temper or annoyance in his tone, only a genuine twinge of concern.

“You don’t have to feign concern, Reeve. I’m not your boss anymore.”

“I’m worried about you. Truly. As a friend.”

Rufus doesn’t respond. Reeve pushes on further. “I’ve known you for over ten years, Sir. Trust me when I say that you mean more to me than just my former employer.”

“Kiss me.”

Rufus covers his own mouth with his hand. He doesn’t know why he says it, only that he wants the pain in his chest to go away. To take his mind off of it, if only for an hour.

“S-Sir?” Reeve feels a blush cross his face at the idea.

“Kiss me,” Rufus repeats, quieter this time. He reaches out for Reeve, grabbing onto his tie and pulling him closer, grip loose so that he could easily refuse.

Reeve stumbles against the bed as Rufus tugs until he has one knee on the mattress, hands holding him up as he stares into shining eyes.

“Just for tonight,” Rufus whisper, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Pretend. Pretend that you love me.” He hopes Reeve doesn’t hear the crack in his voice or the shaking of his other hand, gripping the blanket so tightly it goes numb.

“Sir…” Reeve puffs out above him, hand coming to rest over Rufus’ in disbelief.

“Please.”

A simple word, said as if it was forbidden, too quiet even in the silence of the room. Reeve has never heard Rufus beg for anything and maybe it’s that desperation that makes him move closer. Or perhaps it’s the lurch in his heart that makes him want to take care of Rufus and give him what he wants to make him even the slightest bit happier.

Rufus wraps his arms around his neck and repeats once more. “Kiss me.”

And Reeve does.

Gently, at first, experimenting to see if he feels alright. Rufus’ lips are soft and pliable, greedily searching for more. Reeve kisses him again and shifts so both legs are straddling him. His hands slide up; one behind Rufus’ back and the other on his neck to cradle his head.

Reeve feels so different from Tseng. Rough where he is smooth, gentle where he is passionate. Rufus tries to cast the thought out of his mind, but he doesn’t know what he’s trying to do. Does he want to focus on the man before him or wallow over a man of the past?

Clothes come tumbling off. Reeve leaves a trail of chaste kisses from his jaw to his neck as he slides silk pajamas down smooth arms. Rufus shudders at the tender kisses, skin tingling where Reeve touches. He hears a jacket and shirt come undone rather than sees it, too enraptured by the feeling of Reeve’s nose nuzzling against the crook of his shoulder and neck. A belt comes loose and slips into the growing pile on the floor and Reeve pushes him down gently, arms trapping him on both sides, stilling.

“Are you sure about this, Sir?” He asks quietly, watching Rufus’ face for any signs of discomfort.

Rufus wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down into another kiss, eyes closed and nails scratching against Reeve’s scalp.

“Call me by my name,” he whispers, hand trailing down Reeve’s shoulder to his chest; soft where it should be firm. Little muscle compared to his previous lover, hair where there should be smooth skin.

“Rufus…”

“Yes.” _No._ It’s not low enough, not gritty enough. It’ll have to do.

He trails his hand down Reeve’s chest, to his pants, unbuttoning and pulling down the zipper. He wraps around a half hard cock, pumping until it’s erect.

Reeve moans into their kiss and Rufus already thinks he’s too noisy, too unlike his silent lover, but it’s not like he can say much considering that he moans back when Reeve slides a hand down his pants and returns the favor.

A moment later, Reeve is pulling away and leaning over to find the lube and condoms that Rufus pointed to in the night stand. He comes back and slides silk pajama bottoms off of Rufus and does the same to himself. He nestles himself between Rufus’ legs and stares at pale skin shining in the moonlight, light hair fanning beneath his head, and wet lips from their kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, rubbing circles into Rufus’ hips. He nearly forgets that he’s supposed to be playing a loving partner, the gestures mixed in with his own style.

Rufus swallows and looks up at him, letting out a quiet hum and waiting for him to continue. There’s an uncapping of a bottle and a finger pressing in cautiously, thrusting shallowly until he’s accustomed to it before another finger enters. He lets out a slight gasp at the feeling. It’s been so _long_ since he’s felt the touch of another person like this. Reeve pauses for a moment to ask if he’s alright and Rufus tells him to continue.

Reeve crooks his fingers up and Rufus moans, pushing against him to feel more of it. A third is added and Rufus lets his head fall back with a sigh, legs falling open at Reeve’s sides and waiting for something else.

Reeve pulls out and he feels so empty. A ripping sound and some shuffling later, a hand is back behind Rufus’ head and pulling him in for a passionate kiss as Reeve slowly pushes his cock in, swallowing each of Rufus’ moans until he bottoms out. He breaks the kiss to look down at the man below him, powerful yet vulnerable at the same time, reaching up to him for more with a needy gleam in his eyes.

His other hand grips Rufus’ inner thigh, spreading him apart as he begins thrusting. Rufus moans and whimpers at just the right moments, eyes closed and hands gripping at the sheets under him.

“Tell me you love me,” Rufus murmurs between kisses, bringing one leg up to wrap behind Reeve, squeezing him tightly.

“I love you,” Reeve whispers, hips slowing down to push in deep, hand rubbing circles into the back of his head gently before he repeats the words again.

Rufus’ breath hitches in his throat and he shudders, shifting his other leg to lock behind Reeve when he moves his hand up to his waist. He can’t control his voice and his skin feels so sensitive after being touched in so long. Every brush of the hand, breath on his skin, feels so _good._ He knows that he isn’t going to last that long.

Reeve continues thrusting slowly, whispering that he loves him between kisses and letting his hand trail ever so lightly up and down his body. It’s then that Rufus starts pretending it’s someone else. Someone else saying sweet nothings in his ear, someone else showering him with love and care, someone else telling him that he’ll always be there for him.

And it’s then that Rufus starts crying, silent tears at first, trailing down his temple and into the sheets. Reeve pulls away and stops his movements, the hand in his hair soothing him.

“Keep going,” Rufus whispers out before Reeve can say anything and break the illusion. He locks his ankles behind him to encourage him, hearing a sigh before a nose comes nuzzling at his cheek again, trailing down to leave open kisses on his jaw as Reeve begins moving again.

He wraps his hands around Reeve’s neck and pulls him down until he’s being smothered by him, nails leaving indents on his back. He wants to be covered by him, surrounded in a warm blanket of care until he suffocates. Reeve holds him tightly and he feels precious. Loved. He turns his his back for a kiss, moaning back his own “I love you” to a man who isn’t there.

He can feel Reeve’s hips stuttering in their pace inside him and reaches down to start chasing for his own release. It doesn’t take long for them both to come, hands curling and back arching with a last declaration of love leaving their lips.

Reeve pretends he doesn’t hear someone else’s name leave Rufus’ lips.

Instead, he holds him tightly as they both come down from their highs. Rufus shakes in his hold as Reeve peppers his face with soft kisses, wiping away the tears before they can disappear into his hair.

He pulls out with a soft grunt and detangles himself from the tight hold, sitting up to remove the condom, throwing it into the small trash bin. He’s about to get up, but a hand wraps itself around his wrists.

“Don’t leave me.”

It’s the weakest voice Reeve has ever heard from Rufus and he looks down to see a quaking hand, eyes trailing up to meet downcast, glassy eyes. He doesn’t have the heart to leave to just go to the bathroom. Instead, he grabs napkins from the tray he brought earlier and starts wiping their stomachs down. Rufus is quiet during the whole ordeal, adamant on keeping his gaze away from Reeve’s, trying to hide his exposed weakness.

Reeve tosses the napkin into the trash and sits back in bed, moving Rufus with some difficulty to sit in his lap and lean against him. He takes the water from the tray and holds it up to him, unwavering until Rufus takes it and starts drinking.

He drapes the blanket over their laps and takes the glass back when Rufus is finished, setting it back onto the tray. The soup is cold by now, so he grabs one of the meat buns, still a little warm, and holds it up to him in hopes that he’ll eat at least that for the night.

It takes a bit of time and a sniffle, but Rufus takes the bun and starts eating slowly. Reeve rests his hands over his legs on the blanket, an arm supporting his back to keep him propped up.

“Do you want to talk about it, Rufus?” Reeve asks quietly once the bun is finished.

Rufus sighs, ignoring the pang in his chest. “There’s nothing to talk about. He left me. That’s all.”

“And you miss him?” Reeve nuzzles the top of his head and pretends not to hear the crack in Rufus’ voice when he replies with a small “yes.”

Reeve hums and shifts them back down the bed so that Rufus can use his shoulder as a pillow. He pulls the blanket up and feels an arm rest on his chest. He brings his hand up to lay on top of his, giving his forehead a chaste kiss before tucking Rufus’ head under his chin.

They can talk another time, Reeve figures.

It doesn’t take long before Rufus falls asleep, the ache in his chest dulled for now by the hand lightly running up and down his back.

Reeve doesn’t stop, taking in the feeling of Rufus, all walls down, sleeping serenely in his arms. He nestles his nose into his hair and just takes in the scent that is distinctly Rufus, giving him a slight squeeze in the process. He dozes off soon after, thoughts turned towards familiar lips turning upwards and feels his own twinge of pain.

Neither of them awaken when Tseng comes into the room later that night, frozen at the scene before him. He leaves just as quickly as he comes, resting against the door with a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his chest.

When Elena asks him if he got the tray from Rufus’ room, he tells her that they’ll just clean it tomorrow.


End file.
